Page 130 of Lady of Ashes

CALLAN

Callan sat in his private sitting room, a glass of liquor dangling from his ?ngertips. It had been a long day of council meetings.

He’d sat in that stuffy meeting room for hours, listening to his father’s Lords debate everything from the docks to the cost of crops to the increasing “problem” of the beggars on the streets. He’d refrained from doing much speaking, still trying to get caught up on everything that had transpired while he’d been off “vacationing for the last few months” as his father liked to say. There was also the fact that every time he attempted to contribute, the look his father gave him told him to keep his mouth shut. So he’d sat and listened to the Lords prattle on, making notes on things he’d someday change when he was the one sitting at the head of that table.

But he was also watching the Lords, marking their mannerisms, their facial expressions. Noting the little tells of when they disagreed but didn’t say so, or when they were pleased with a decision. The things Tava had been teaching him to pay attention to.

He watched how Lord Cardington shuf?ed his papers, trying to hide his excitement, when there was talk of taking land from farmers in the north so that the kingdom could provide more food for the underprivileged. The Lord would directly pro?t from such an operation, seeing as one of his businesses transported the majority of the food to and from the capital. Of course, the annexation of the land would be for the better of all of Windonelle, and surely the current owners would easily ?nd other employment and ways to provide for their families. Or so the Lord had said in a bid to convince the others. Nothing had been of?cially decided and decreed, but the Lord seemed con?dent enough.

He watched Duke Travers clench his jaw almost imperceptibly when the king dismissed his concerns of tension with Toreall as soon as Lord Tyndell said there was nothing to worry about. Everyone else moved on to the next topic, but Callan saw the glare the duke sent Lord Tyndell, the man’s brown eyes seeming to darken with malice.

And he watched Lord Friswith hide the smirk that said he saw the duke’s glare, too.

Tava had been utterly brilliant at the engagement ball. While Callan had made small talk with the various nobility, Tava had maintained her shy demeanor, ever the timid and docile Lady. She greeted everyone he introduced her to, danced with a few of them here and there, but he never let her out of his sight. And when he would be on the dance ?oor with her, she would tell him of things she’d overheard and what to watch for with certain Lords, particularly his father’s Inner Circle.

Ever the little fox in the chicken coop.

Which is how she had heard her father speaking in a low voice with Lord Friswith of a rising threat to the west and things they needed to do to begin preparing for that threat. She heard him whisper of how he planned to bring it to the king’s attention at an upcoming council meeting and was asking for the Lord’s support in the matter. Since there was nothing but water to the west of Windonelle, he was obviously referencing Avonleya, and, in turn, Scarlett and the Fae. A servant had stepped in to offer Callan and Tava wine at that moment, and by the time they’d moved on, her father and Lord Friswith had moved out of earshot.

A quick knock on the door pulled Callan from his thoughts as a voice called from the other side, “Callan? It’s me.”

Tava?

He glanced at the clock above the ?replace. It was nearly midnight.

What was she doing here?

Before he could answer, the door was pushed open, and Finn came in, throwing him an exasperated look as Tava followed.

“You should have waited for him to answer,” she was chastising Finn.

“I told you, his night guard said he was in here. It’s ?ne,” Finn sighed.

Tava huffed, letting the door snick shut behind her.

“What are you two doing here at this hour?” Callan asked, glancing back and forth between them.

“We need to talk about this guard thing, Callan,” Tava said, removing the cloak she was wearing and tossing it over a chair.

“Oh?” Callan asked, arching a brow and glancing at Finn.

Finn rolled his eyes, moving to the liquor cart and pouring himself a ?nger of whiskey.

“Yes,” Tava was saying, her hands coming to her hips. She had on black pants and a black tunic, and her hair was braided down her back. The boots she was wearing came nearly to her knees, and Callan found himself trying to recall if he had ever seen her in anything other than a dress.

“He is everywhere. All the time. If Drake isn’t there, then Finn is,” Tava groused.

Callan cocked his head to the side as he watched the Lady begin to pace. He’d de?nitely never seen her this riled, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

“He is your personal guard, Tava,” Callan said slowly. “It is expected of him to be there all the time. That is his job.”

“Then make it not his job,” she snapped.

Callan glanced at Finn again, and he sighed. “She has tried to sneak from the manor the last three nights and is frustrated she is not as stealthy as she thinks she is.”

Callan’s brows shot up. “Why are you leaving the manor at this hour of the night?”

“I have things to tend to,” she said with a wave of her hand.

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